


Tales Tall as Cliffs

by doloploke



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen, post-Homefront
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 05:33:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10430223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doloploke/pseuds/doloploke
Summary: A coda to "Homefront". Robin helps Artemis with her bruises.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Margot and the Nuclear So & So's "Tall as Cliffs". Traught goggles optional.

_Thwack._

Three green-fletched arrows strike the target in a perfect line, still vibrating from impact. But Artemis barely notices—she is on to the next challenge, diving over a low barrier and into a combat roll, loosing another arrow as soon as her feet are under her. Then she breaks out into a run, firing three more arrows in quick succession, and a trick shot to finish—dart up the wall, push off as hard as she can, and shoot in midair.

For an instant the training room is filled with smoke and flames and a crush of rushing water, and there's a cold hand around her throat and a terribly limp body at her feet and the sour taste of fear in her mouth. Artemis's shot goes wild--she lands hard on her stomach, the air going out of her in a rush.

Artemis groans, and rolls over. Her heart pounds in her ears. Her fingers had gone totally numb two hours into her training session, almost twenty minutes ago. Now they're tingling. The sweat on her face and neck is starting to cool.

She tugs her cowl down around her neck as she heads towards the locker room. She won't shower here at Mt. Justice—there's still a massive hole in the shower room wall, made by one of Robin's explosives just two days before. But she'll at least be able to wash her face. Maybe the water will bring her back to reality.

The water doesn't really help. All it does is make her face slightly less sore. Artemis stares into the mirror over the sink.The right side of her face is pretty much one big bruise, deep purple around her eye and radiating green and yellow down her cheek. It looks even grosser than it did this morning. No way in hell will she be able to cover up this mess with drug store concealer. And she has school tomorrow.

Fuck.

“Quite a shiner you've got there.” Artemis nearly jumps out of her skin.

Robin is leaning casually against the tiled wall a few feet to her left, grinning. He's dressed in civvies—grey sweatshirt, dark jeans, darker sunglasses, backpack hanging off one shoulder.

“You little shit!” she hisses. “Don't sneak up on people like that!”

Artemis expects him to giggle, but he doesn't. His brows knit together—he looks genuinely sorry.

“I'm sorry,” he says. “I wasn't thinking. I'm still pretty jumpy, too.”

_Speak for yourself_ , Artemis almost says, but doesn't. He's right, she is jumpy, and besides—he had been there, too. He'd almost died.

“So,” Robin says, “I thought you might need some, uh, help with that.”

This is getting dangerously close to pity. “With what?”

Robin taps a finger to his cheek. “That bruise. You've got school tomorrow, right? Stuff like that makes people ask questions.”

“And how exactly are you gonna help with that?” Artemis says, more sharply than she means to. She's been worrying about that, too. Her little family unit won't survive a visit from CPS. And she likes having her mom around. She's getting used to it.

“I know some make-up tricks. C'mon, sit down and I'll show you.”

Artemis raises an eyebrow at him. Doubt is written all over her face.

Robin sighs, then wets his hand under the faucet. He scrubs hard at his jaw, then lifts up his hand for her to see. His fingers are covered with make-up, and his jaw is an ugly purplish red.

“See? Trust me, no one will be able to tell.”

Artemis sighs. “All right.”

They straddle one of the locker room's benches, facing each other. Robin rummages around in his backpack and takes out a big makeup bag. He unzips it and starts pulling out bottles of liquid foundation, concealer, setting spray, a handful of brushes, four different lipsticks. It's looks like high end stuff—the labels are black and minimalist.

“This is kind of a tradition,” Robin says. Artemis feels his eyes studying her, though she can't see them.

“It is?”

“Yeah. I used to do this for Roy, back when he and Green Arrow used to do missions with me and Batman sometimes. I've done it for Batman too, but that's totally a secret and if you ask him about it he'll deny it.”

Artemis snickers despite herself, and Robin grins.

“Hey, us normies gotta stick together,” he says.

Artemis smiles. It feels...good to be included. Most of the time, when Wally or even Robin or Kaldur talks about Red Arrow, Artemis feels this subtle, terrible distance between her and them. Like she'll always just be a shitty replacement for their friend. But now, she's part of a tradition. Part of a team.

Robin is smearing lipstick on his forearm and mixing it with concealer. “You're totally a Summer, by the way,” he says.

Artemis rolls her eyes at him. “Is that some kind of joke? Like I have a sunny personality or whatever?” Her voice is heavy with sarcasm.

“What? No, I mean your colors. Your pallette.”

Artemis has no idea what he's talking about. She tells him so.

“It's this fashion thing from the 80s. Color analysis. Basically just saying what colors look good against your skin tone and hair color. It's dumb.” He grins. “I'm a Winter.”

“And what does that mean, exactly?”

“That I look great in black and terrible in green. It's why I'm Batman's sidekick and not Green Arrow's.” Artemis laughs. She's a sucker for snark.

Robin finishes mixing the stuff on his forearm. He considers Artemis's face again. “That should be good,” he announces. “Close your eyes?”

Artemis does. She feels suddenly vulnerable, and hates it.

“This might sting a bit,” Robin says softly. Artemis feels gentle, careful fingers on her face. There's no pain.

“How'd you learn how to do all this stuff?” she asks.

“Sorry,” Robin says, “you have to be a level 4 friend to unlock my tragic backstory.”

Artemis doesn't flinch, despite how much that hurts. She's proud of that. The fingers leave her face.

“Shit,” Robin exhales. “Artemis, I'm sorry. That came out wrong, I was trying to make stupid joke. Of course we're friends.”

“It's okay,” Artemis says. If she says so, it'll feel better. “I get it. We've all got secrets.” She certainly does.

They lapse into silence. Artemis hears Robin open a container, then feels a make-up brush make soft circles on her cheek.

“My mom,” Robin says suddenly. “That's where I learned it. She was really great with make-up.” Artemis catches the _was,_ but doesn't say anything. This is already so much, especially from someone who doesn't even let her see his face.

Robin hesitates, then continues. “She was...a performer, so she knew all about contrasts and tones and how to look good under the lights. I liked watching her get ready, when I was a kid. It seemed like magic. So she taught me some stuff.”

Robin's fingers touch her face again, dabbing around her eye, then making small, soft circles.

“I didn't really have anyone to teach me this stuff when I was a kid,” Artemis says, before she can talk herself out of it. “My sister tried to show me how to do a smoky eye once, but I was about seven so I wasn't really paying attention.” Robin laughs, and Artemis feels a puff of air across her cheek. His face must be inches from hers.

Artemis opens her eyes, and sees her own face staring back at her, reflecting off the lenses of Robin's sunglasses.

“Almost done,” he says. His voice is soft. He's so close Artemis can feel his chest moving with his breath.

His finger rubs gently against her cheek. “There,” he whispers, and leans back. The air between them seems to snap, like a rubber band breaking. Artemis's cheeks start to heat up.

“You can check it, if you want,” Robin says. Artemis gets to her feet and walks back over to the mirror.

Her face looks perfect. She can't see the bruise at all, not even when she's really looking for it. It looks natural, too, and seamless.

“How is it?” Robin asks.

“It's amazing,” Artemis says. “You could do this professionally.”

“Maybe I will, if this crime fighting thing doesn't work out,” Robin replies. He gets to his feet gracefully, tucking away his makeup bag and swinging his backpack over his shoulder. He stands next to her at the sink.

“Close your eyes again for a sec,” he says. Artemis does without hesitation. Something cool sprays on her face, and she almost sneezes.

“Setting spray,” Robin says, “You can take a shower if you want—everything's water proof, so it should stay. Just don't rub your face too much. You should probably ice it, too, to keep the swelling down. If you want, I can meet you here after school tomorrow to do this again.”

“Yeah, that would be good,” Artemis says. “Meet here at 5?”

“Perfect,” Robin says. For a split second, he looks uncertain. “I could teach you how to do this,” he says slowly, “if you want. It's not that hard, once you get the hang of it.”

“No,” Artemis says. “No, you're way better at this then I could ever be. Besides, this was...nice.”

Robin's smile is so pure and genuine it almost hurts her. “I'm glad.” 

Artemis looks down, to get herself together before she says something stupid. When she looks up again, Robin is gone.


End file.
